Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. If Ulla’s here, that means . . .
Turning to find my fucking mother seated in the lobby, my breath hitches in shock. I came to London to get away from these crazy women! With all their fucking toxic spew about revenge for Hans’ death, I was drowning in shit. Quickly regaining my composure, I clench my hands tightly by my sides and clear my throat roughly, craning my neck.
It’s been months. There’s no way my mom is still complaining about Hans getting what was coming to him. The original act was just that, an act. Memories of all the times Mother Dearest grumbled about killing Hans rise up in my ears as I walk over to her.
“Mother,” I say, and she looks up at me with a fond smile plastered on her face. Suspicion sours my tongue while she stands, holding out her arms for me. “What’re you doing here, Mother? I would’ve saved you a room if you’d called ahead.”
“I was in London on some business and decided to pop in,” my mom reveals, and I pull back sharply. Business? Wasn’t she supposed to be hiding from the Irish—the Mexicans—the everybody, basically? “We won’t be needing a room, but I appreciate the thought, Baron. Klaus is here, as well. I thought it would be nice to have breakfast together as a family.”
“Klaus is in London, too? But, Mother, don’t you think this is a little brash, exposing yourself like this?” I try to hide the fact that I might puke. Great. The prodigal son is here? Fighting a grimace, I take a short breath and pull back from my mom. She huffs, slinging her signature fur over her shoulder to stroke it.
“You own this hotel, and it has a kitchen, yes? So, we’ll order in,” my mother says flippantly, and irritation instantly sparks to life in my chest. She always does this, bulldozing through and caring nothing for the chaos she leaves behind her.
I mean, look at what she did to the fucking Irish Mafia. The Irish fucking Mafia. My mom went after them in their own stronghold! With cheap mercenaries! God, it riles me up just thinking about it, but I’m careful not to show it in front of her.
“Where’s Klaus?” I change the subject, and I point at Ulla with open disdain. “What’s she doing here? I understand bringing my brother, but she was just Hans’ favorite slut for a hot minute, Mother.”
“I understand you don’t like her, Baron, but try to keep the animosity to a minimum. Whatever you feel for her doesn’t change the fact that Hans was engaged to her, and she was pregnant with his child. She’s a part of this family,” my mom says sharply, threat thickening her tone, and I can’t help my snort of disgust and disbelief.
“Please. Either that pregnancy was faked, or it wasn’t Hans’, and you know it. You just want her around because you can grind her under your heel,” I scoff, and my mother casts me a warning glare. But I’m beyond caring anymore. What can she do to me, now that she’s the one in the hot seat? If anything, she’ll have to come to me for help. My mother no longer has a stranglehold around my neck. “Mother, don’t be so dense as to believe that TV ‘accidentally’ fell on her. That baby would come out looking like an alien, knowing Ulla. She’d fuck anything with a horse cock, and you must really be delusional at this point to allow her presence.”
“Baron,” my mother warns lowly, a fire flickering in her eyes. I arch a brow, realization washing into me like calming ocean waves. She notices, her eyelid twitching as she scans me.
“If you don’t like it, leave, but I will not recognize that bitch as family,” I growl, and my mom’s eyes widen in surprise. “Either she leaves, or I’ll call the Irish and make you both leave. Pick your battle carefully, Mother.”
“Excuse me?” She balks, and I stare my mother down steadily. How many times had I ached for this moment? When she was the one on a short leash, and I didn’t have to bow to her every whim? My mother is a ruthless bitch, but she’s not particularly business savvy.
“This is what you’d call . . . an ultimatum. I’m sure Liam Mackenzie will be thrilled to know you’re not in Germany anymore.” Anger flushes my mother’s face and eyes, and her lip curls in a snarl at my threat. “Don’t do this over that piece of shit. If you need an emotional support animal, get a fucking dog, but I do not allow trash to clutter my lobby.”
My mother and I glare at each other before she eventually gives up, and relief spreads through my body. Thank God, I was worried I’d have to make good on my threat. And the last thing I need is Liam Mackenzie on my ass.
That’s if he doesn’t know my mom is here in the first place. I’m sure, when I opened this place, Liam sent his spies in. I want to avoid friction with him as much as possible. The guy got his fucking hand cut off, for fuck’s sake. Even I couldn’t say I wouldn’t attack me in that situation.
“Ulla, go sit in the car,” my mother demands, and Ulla jumps and squawks like a strangled chicken. She wasn’t much of a stiff character before Hans’ death, but now that Petra Frey has her under her thumb . . . Ulla might as well be a puddle. It’d be pathetic if she wasn’t such a shitty human being that being a puddle is a fucking step up. “There. Happy now?”
“No, I’m not,” I declare, and my mom’s face grows redder. This isn’t the most I’ve spoken out or objected to, but it is the first time I didn’t have her shadow looming over me. “Why’d you leave Berlin? What was so important that you had to come here to London and stir shit up for me?”
“You refused to meet with me, so I had to come here.” My mother nearly pouts like a child, shooting an accusatory glare at me. Suspicion clouds my mind. “We have things we need to discuss about the business. Klaus shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Things to discuss? You couldn’t simply video chat me?” But my mom turns her face away, unwilling to answer me. I scoff and roll my eyes. Her blunder with Liam Mackenzie really fucking hit her where it hurts. She’s being irrational because of the paranoia of having every major illicit organization turning against her.
“Baron.” Glancing up at the call, I tense as my brother comes striding into the lobby. Klaus’s hair is longer than I remember. We haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, though. Holding out my hand for him, we shake, and he glances between Mother and me. “I see the arguing has already started. Let’s go somewhere private? Where’s that bitch?”
“I kicked her out,” I reveal, and Klaus nods in approval. If nothing else, it’s the one thing we agree on. Ulla’s a fucking cunt, and neither of us like her. Gesturing to follow me, I head for the elevator and punch the button before turning to my brother. “How was Dubai?”
“Unfruitful, I’m afraid. The Saudis refused to see me outright,” Klaus sounds pissed, and I cross my arms over my chest to rub my chin thoughtfully. “This campaign of goodwill you have me on is useless, Mother. You should accept that it’s over and walk away with your legitimate business.”
“I didn’t work this hard for some fucking no-name bitch to take me down,” our mom replies bitterly, glaring at Klaus hotly. “The audacity! I’d rather die than let those shit-slinging Irish get the best of me.”
“It seems a little late for that, Mother,” I remark callously, and she turns her glare to me. Something has changed, though, and I unfurl my arms as the elevator doors open. “You’ve never been able to call it quits while you were ahead, though. I don’t know why I entertained the idea now. Maybe, your age is making you unable to comprehend the severity of the situation.”
“You watch how you talk to me, young man,” my mother snaps at me nastily, pushing her way through Klaus and me. We share a look, my brother and I, and I nod him through first. This isn’t good, and if we don’t want to die . . . Klaus and I will have to work together. Lord, what a mess. “I haven’t lost yet.”
“Mother, you kidnapped Liam Mackenzie, and your goons cut his hand off despite being expressly told against any permanent harm,” Klaus chides our mother firmly. He’s always been able to get through to her, and I push the floor button with my thumb quietly. She didn’t respect me before Hans was murdered, and she sure as shit doesn’t now. It no longer bothers me. “Don’t you think we’re past the point of negotiating a ceasefire with the Irish? As long as they’re gunning for you, the others will follow their lead. I think Baron is right. You need to walk away while you still can.”
“No. Desmond Mackenzie and I have done business in the past. He’ll hear me out if given enough time to cool down,” my mother declares, and silence rings in my ears in its wake. I catch Klaus’s eye, but he shakes his head slightly. The ride up to my private suite is long and arduous, and I pull out my phone once we’re off the elevator.
Delaney should’ve arrived in Switzerland by now, I believe. She’d promised to text me when she landed. Worry breaks through the thick cloak of irritation and suspicion currently draping over me.
